


i'm not hungry anymore

by NotPersephone



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Argentina, F/M, Feels, Pillow Talk, Post Season 3, Reunion bliss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:14:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29062653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotPersephone/pseuds/NotPersephone
Summary: “Are you comfortable?” Hannibal asks, each word vibrating through her cheek and rippling under her skin with fizzing sparks.“You know I am,” she sighs in responds, pressing herself further against his body, finding each favourite point of contact, skin against skin.
Relationships: Bedelia Du Maurier/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 10
Kudos: 22





	i'm not hungry anymore

The note of cold slips in unexpectedly, banishing the last remnants of accumulated warmth from the day that passed, as if it had never been there. That is enough fresh air before bedtime, she decides, taking a step back into the house. A final deep inhale and Bedelia closes the door to the garden with an abrupt pull at the handle, her other hand securing the robe around her chest. She shivers, a sensation she has almost forgotten in barely two months, a common thing for someone who has not lived in a warm climate for most of her life, she forgets that even summers here are not eternal, taking a cold respite at night. Perhaps it is the way to remind one that nothing lasts, no matter how delectable. Bedelia has already learned that lesson, more than once.

She now hopes that some good things can stay.

She walks away from the backdoor towards the hallway, feeling the shiver disperse further with every step. The villa that keeps them cool during the day, now continues to retain the warmth, an architectural design that was centuries in perfecting. The cold, and all its implications, vanishes from her mind by the time she reaches the bedroom. But not from her skin, it seems.

“You are cold.”

The voice comes from the bed of the dimly lit room, its timbre low and sultry in its caution. Bedelia smiles to herself as the notes of concern settle in her heart with a pleasant echo.

“I was enjoying some fresh air in the garden. I forgot the temperature can drop so suddenly in the summer,” she responds in the same hushed tone, giving the man on the bed a firm stare marking the unnecessity of his concern, “I am fine, Hannibal,” she adds as his vigil eyes continue to shine in the dark.

Her smile persists. The worry might be needless but it is very much welcomed, nonetheless.

“There is only one way to make sure of that,” Hannibal’s tone turns playful in its pretended seriousness and he pulls the cover open in a wordless invitation.

Bedelia lets out a quiet chuckle but her body already responds to the invisible pull, moving towards the centre of the room. She feels Hannibal’s attentive gaze accompanying her every step until she reaches the edge of the bed. The eyes turns fervent as she undoes the sash of her robe, peels the fabric off her shoulder, and lets it fall down, revealing her naked skin underneath.

The hand on the bed drags the covers further away as if the need to ensure her warmth has just become more urgent. And Bedelia does not leave the call unanswered for long. Drawn to his presence, she slips into the bed and her body instinctively finds his, like a puzzle piece fitting perfectly into its rightful place. His arm encircles her frame as she settles to lie down, her head resting on his naked chest. It does not take her long, the cosiness taking over her body in an instant.

“Are you comfortable?” Hannibal asks, each word vibrating through her cheek and rippling under her skin with fizzing sparks.

“You know I am,” she sighs in responds, pressing herself further against his body, finding each favourite point of contact, skin against skin.

She cannot see it, but she knows a grin has made an appearance on his face.

“I am glad,” he responds, ever so innocently, yet the delight at her response radiates with increased heat of his body.

“You might have ruined pillows for me,” she admits in her state of serenity while her nose burrows beneath his jaw.

Hannibal chuckles; the sound resonates pleasantly against her skin, making her smile with relish.

“Anything else I might have ruined for you?” he asks casually as if they were still discussing the weather.

He could be referring to anything, but the careful intonation in his voice paired with his fingers moving to stroke the most sensitive spot on her neck indicate he means one thing.

“Really, Hannibal?” she smirks at his question, moving her cheek from the warm spot on his chest to glance back at him.

She meets an expected cheeky grin and eyes shining with mischief.

“It is just a passing enquiry,” he faints ignorance, yet his hands continue their skilful ministrations, distracting her focus.

She knows he is doing that on purpose, hoping that turning her body languid will loosen her tongue as well.

“Have you truly succumbed to the need of reassuring your fragile masculinity? I have expected more from you,” she states coolly and props herself on her forearm to look at him, letting him see the full grasp of the contempt in her eyes.

“Of course, not,” he retorts at once, not concerned by her assumption.

“What would you think if I asked you the same thing?” she presses on, head tilted in dare.

The gleam in Hannibal’s eyes flickers afresh, indicating that there is nothing that would please him more than to reiterate on the subject of her superiority in that area.

Bedelia’s lips twists in amusement as she takes in his keenness. She makes a mental note to possible revisit the option on a later date. But for now, she is enjoying the tease.

“It is not about me,” he returns to the topic at hand, standing his ground, the same guiltless smile colouring his lips.

His hand moves from her neck to graze the strands of her hair, fingertips gently moving between each lock.

“It isn’t?” she fakes shock, making him smirk anew, “So it is not about knowing that no one else has given me as much pleasure as you?”

While her words swirl in the air between them bringing forth vivid images to accompany her statement, she reaches her own her hand out, giving his cheek a casual stroke of silent reprimand. Her indirect admission makes his eyes light up with a brilliant flare, but he recovers with a graceful save.

“It is about knowing you are being given everything you deserve,” he takes her hand, lips pressing against her fingertips, " _Everything_."

Even the seemingly innocent caress makes her body react with a shiver.

“That it is what I have always wished to give you.”

“Everything?” her voice trembles lightly as he continues to kiss her palm.

“Everything,” he states firmly, bringing her hand to rest on his chest and covering it with his.

“And you did,” she confirms, fingertips pressing gently into his skin.

The choice of tense is accidental yet they both fall silent. Bedelia wishes she reconsidered her term. She does not wish to bring up the past; time for blame and remorse is long gone. She does not want to relive it afresh; she spent three years doing nothing but that. Yet Hannibal does not seem to shy away from the implication. His eyes peer into hers with wordless contrition, ready to right all his wrongs.

“And I will,” the conviction in his voice strengthens still, his arms wrapping firmly around her body, a secure seal on his promise.

The vow rests within her heart in a warm glow of rekindled fire burning steadily between them.

“I will never leave you wanting again,” his voice falters on the last word and his gaze falls away as if in a pang of regret.

His words strike a chord within her and she ponders his turn of phrase; that is how she felt, not exactly missing, but _craving_.

“You have awakened my appetite,” she admits unexpectedly, his repentance making her true thoughts flow with ease.

Hannibal’s eyes flash anew, a shadow of a smile returning to his lips. That is all he has always wanted.

“I will ensure it is always satisfied,” the lust brings out the husky notes in his voice as his body moves to meet hers.

Bedelia shifts forward, breasts pressing against his chest, stirring his arousal. Hannibal grunts in appreciation.

“Are you satisfied?” she asks suddenly, her heartbeat rising to her throat.

In his desire to focus on her alone, they omitted a crucial piece: it is about him too, after all.

“Perfectly sated,” he responds without hesitation, his head tilting as he watches her with adoring contentment.

Like a man who was starving all his life and has finally found sufficient nourishment. One that will never be lacking.

Her heart settles back into its sultry rhythm and she smiles, now ready to attend to more pressing needs.

“I am feeling peckish now,” she announces, lips hovering above his like a delectable lure.

His lips capture hers in an instant, a treat not to be missed and a promise not to be taken lightly.

Bedelia sighs in approval and returns the kiss. Her heart is full.

**Author's Note:**

> As promised, a post season 3 bliss. The story reads as sort of reverse to "swan song" as in it starts with Bedelia being cold and ends with her happily in Hannibal's arms. It was not intentional but I decided to roll with it.   
> As always, thank you for reading! It means so much to me! Stay safe ♥


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